


Stake your claim

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Incubus and Werewolf [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Claiming Bites, Complete, Derek Loves Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is Stiles' Anchor, Derek's Wolf Loves Stiles, F/M, Incubus Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Pheromones, Police Officer Derek Hale, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Derek, Scent Kink, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Senses, Sensory Deprivation, Series, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles is Derek's Anchor, Stiles is Not a Virgin, Stiles makes sure everyone knows he's not a virgin, Tails, Werewolf Derek, stiles has a tail, stiles is being stalked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After claiming and being claimed by Derek, Stiles is floating on cloud nine, and he makes sure <i>everyone</i> knows why.</p><p>But the person that hired thugs to kidnap him is still out there, and Stiles' stalker is intent on taking him away from his mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Scott, my man! Did I tell you why - "

 

"Stiles, if you mention that doughnut pillow one more time, I will burst the damn thing while you're sitting on it, understood?" Scott said, glaring angrily, slamming his lacrosse locker shut.

 

"But - "

 

"I don't want to hear any more about your butt! Or your boyfriend, or how you and Derek have claimed each other! I do not care, and no matter what I told you about me and Allison, this is already _way_ above and beyond, dude."

 

"Aww, Scotty, you're ruining all my fun. I've barely had four days to brag about this!" Stiles whined, biting back a grin just to tease Scott some more.

 

"Yet you haven't _stopped_ bragging about it. Everyone in the school knows about it; you've actually traumatised the freshmen! Seriously, dude, if you were any more smug, you'd be a cartoon!"

 

Stiles stopped and frowned for a second. "A sexy cartoon though, right? Like, I'd be the kind of cartoon character that gets all the wolfy pheromones?"

 

"Oh, you asked for it! Where's that damn doughnut? Hand it over!"

 

"No! It's my little butt doughnut! Go get your own!" Stiles yelped, holding his bag up and away from Scott's reach.

 

"Gonna tear it to pieces and feed it to you," Scott threatened.

 

"I ate a big lunch, I don't want any - "

 

Scott went still abruptly, frowning when he saw the dazed expression on Stiles' face and Stiles dropped his bag listlessly.

 

"Don't want any what?" Scott asked, frown deepening when he didn't get an answer. "Dude? Stiles, what's wrong?" he asked, waving his hand in front of Stiles' blank face. "You're freaking me out, Stiles. Seriously, what the hell's going on?"

 

"You mean you can't _smell_ that?" Stiles asked, practically drooling, his fangs sliding out with ease and his tail upright against his spine.

 

Scott was thankful that the locker room was empty and no one could see Stiles shifted. Realising that his friend was obviously scenting something beyond the locker room's general _eau de stink_ , Scott frowned again and sniffed with enhanced senses. There was a faint scent he could pick up, but he couldn't recognise what it was, and it sure didn't smell _that_ great to give Stiles whatever incubus boner he had going on.

 

"Need it," Stiles moaned.

 

"Whoa, need what?" Scott asked warily, eyes still glowing red as he tried to determine what to do.

 

"Need to drink it or fuck it. Maybe both. It will let me do both, won't it?" Stiles asked with a shiver.

 

"Uh, sure. The scent's this way," Scott said, hand firm on Stiles' shoulder as he led him away from the lockers and towards the showers.

 

"No, no, I can smell it _that_ way. I need to go that way, it's so... I need it, Scott. Let me go, _I need it_ ," Stiles snarled, trying to wrench himself away from Scott's grasp.

 

Scott was still hyped and strong after the lacrosse practice and he managed to keep Stiles in hand, but barely. As soon as they were close enough, he shoved Stiles in the tiled area and turned a cold tap right on to him. Stiles stopped struggling after a few seconds, blinking a few times like he wasn't sure where they were.

 

"Scott, what the fuck? All of this over the doughnut pillow? I'll shut up about it, I swear."

 

"It wasn't that, Stiles. You were... It's like you were hypnotised or something, you were trying to get out of here to find a scent. I'd normally leave you to it in case it was Derek, but it didn't smell like him, and dude, you're still half-naked."

 

Stiles looked down at himself, blushing slightly when he realised that Scott was right.

 

"If it wasn't Derek, then what the fuck was all that about?" Stiles muttered.

 

"You know about as much as me, dude. We'll leave together, all right? I'll make sure you don't go chasing anyone's scent but Derek's, okay?"

 

Stiles nodded quickly, grateful and still a little confused, and stepped out from under the spray. Whatever scent had held him before was gone now, and he sighed in relief.

 

"Thanks, dude. Did I tell you that Derek let's me fuck _and_ drink from him whenever I want?" he added, grinning slightly.

 

"Yeah, like ten times in the last hour - most of it during lacrosse practice. I think Coach was ready to stuff a lacrosse ball in your mouth to make you shut up."

 

Stiles hurried to dry his chest and back, fumbling in his locker for another pair of pants. "Don't know how I got so lucky," he said, pulling his shirt on and frowning when he realised it was both backwards and inside out.

 

"You and me both," Scott said with a grin.

 

...

 

Derek was concerned about the scent and had Stiles explain what the scent smelt like. He had no way of explaining pheromones to someone who couldn't smell them like he could (and even if someone could smell them like he did, Stiles doubted he'd be able to explain it then either), so Derek rang Scott to have him explain it instead. Scott repeated himself three times before he hung up and returned to his job, because there wasn't anything else he could say that would appease Derek.

 

As his father had worked during the long weekend, he had this weekend off, and Stiles had already promised him that he would be home at night. Derek followed Stiles home to make sure the scent wouldn't show up and distract him on the drive home. The Sheriff didn't seem entirely pleased to see Derek showing up on Stiles' heels, but he seemed a lot more grateful when he understood why.

 

"This is the first time something like this has happened since I changed. Why are you acting like it's the end of the world?" Stiles asked, looking between Derek and his father with a frown.

 

Derek and his father, however, were glancing at each other like they knew something was up, and were contemplating whether or not to tell Stiles. He gritted his teeth slightly and glared.

 

"If you don't tell me what's going on, then you're never eating bacon again, Dad. And Derek... I'll think of something," Stiles muttered firmly, realising that he couldn't say no to sex without possibly hurting himself in the process.

 

"Do you remember what I told you I'd been doing all day on Friday?" Derek asked, a little hesitantly.

 

Memories of Friday night to Monday night bombarded Stiles, and he took a second to appreciate those lovely thoughts before he tried to focus on Derek's question. He vaguely remembered him mentioning something, but he'd also been desperate and horny for almost two hours by that point, surely he couldn't be expected to remember every little minute detail? It was some form of mental torture... _Oh, wait_.

 

"You were interrogating the guy that kidnapped me," Stiles said, somewhat proud that he'd remembered without needing a prompt.

 

Derek nodded. "I was planning on telling you earlier, but we've both been ... distracted," he said quickly, eyeing the Sheriff and obviously fighting back a blush.

 

"Do you even _talk_ to each other? It's been a whole week and you _still_ haven't told Stiles? What do you two... No, I don't want to know," the Sheriff said, looking a little pale.

 

Derek hurried to explain. "The man that kidnapped you is Russian, and he - along with his accomplices - were paid a lot of money to kidnap and torture you. Whoever hired them had planned on meeting them at the warehouse on Monday after the long weekend and was going to take you away somewhere; they weren't given many details."

 

"Smart move to keep the lackeys uninformed in case they're ever captured," Stiles admitted, though he could understand how frustrating it was for his father. "Why Monday? It was a long weekend, why not the Saturday or Sunday?"

 

"Like you said, the lackeys weren't given a lot of information. The only thing he did seem certain of was a bank account number. I called in a favour at the FBI and they've managed to trace it to the Cayman Islands so far," the Sheriff said.

 

"A favour? You mean you talked to Agent Douche? Dad, why'd you get _him_ involved for?"

 

"Because my son was kidnapped in my town, in my _driveway_ , and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. So if I can find out who planned to kidnap and take you away, then you'll bet I'll call in every favour that's goddamn owed to me!"

 

Stiles swore slightly under his breath, moving forward to hug his dad tightly. "Sorry, Pops. I guess it was too soon for a really stupid joke."

 

"Damn right it is," John muttered into his shoulder, hugging him back firmly.

 

Both Stiles and John seemed calmer by the time they stopped hugging, and then Stiles frowned slightly. "That scent, you think it belongs to whoever organised my kidnapping, don't you?"

 

"It's highly likely. If they're that desperate to pay some thugs to kidnap you, stalking's probably not too far of a stretch," the Sheriff said, shrugging.

 

"All right. So, when am I being used as bait?"

 

" _What?_ " Derek asked, eyes widening.

 

"Well, it's the easiest option to bring this guy out into the open. I have a tracking device put on me, I decide I have to make a sudden stop for groceries late at night, he kidnaps me again and you'll know exactly where I am. I doubt anything else will work if this guy's so desperate for me and doesn't seem interested in the rest of the pack," Stiles added with a shrug.

 

"No," Derek said immediately. "You're not doing that, Stiles!"

 

"Yes, I am. It's the only way it'll work."

 

"There'll be another way. You're _not_ being bait for this psycho."

 

The Sheriff coughed loudly, stopping their argument. "Sorry, son, but he's right. Stiles acting as bait is one of the few options we have that has the highest chances of working. However, I don't like the scent that you and Scott mentioned - if it's got the ability to hypnotise you like Scott said you were, then you might remove any tracking devices yourself. We need to be a hundred percent certain that this will work, Stiles. I'm not risking losing you again," he added firmly.

 

Stiles sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll talk to Deaton, he might have something to help me."

 

"I'll come with you," Derek said.

 

Stiles didn't even bother trying to argue - he could tell that Derek was still upset about the whole thing, and thought that maybe he could convince him it was a good idea on the way to Deaton's.

 

"Deaton won't be back until tomorrow; emergency at the Ryder farm. Their animals are going into labour earlier than expected," the Sheriff said. "Give him a call and let him know you want to see him as soon as possible in the morning though - he might think of something overnight."

 

"Good idea, thanks," Stiles murmured, pulling his phone out to call the vet.

 

"While you're doing that, I'll call Big Rico's to have pizza delivered for dinner," he added, leaving before Stiles could say or do anything.

 

Stiles glared after his father half-heartedly. Derek didn't know whether to stay or leave, and after a moment, decided that he should probably go and leave Stiles and John to their night together. Stiles took his hand before he could slip past and smiled at him, and Derek didn't feel quite so inclined to leave after all. Once Stiles had left a message on Deaton's phone, Derek tugged him close so Stiles was pressed up against his chest, arms wrapped around one another.

 

"Please think about this, Stiles. I don't... I can't..." Derek couldn't put his feelings and thoughts into words, couldn't think of words that would express what he meant clearly enough, and he just held onto Stiles a little tighter.

 

"I promise I'll think about it," Stiles murmured, his tail wrapping around Derek's legs until he had a leg slotted between Stiles' legs and they were pressed flush up against each other.

 

"Pizza's ordered and will be here in thirty. Derek, I ordered meatlovers for you. Family size okay?" John asked.

 

"Yeah, thanks," he replied, a little surprised, but warm and pleased that John had thought to include him.

 

"Good to hear. Now, movie choices for tonight involve Die Hard, The Fifth Element, or 12 Monkeys."

 

"Bruce Willis mood, much?" Stiles asked, grinning.

 

"You're not the guest choosing the movie, Stiles. Now, Derek, have you made your decision?"

 

"The Fifth Element sounds good."

 

"Good. I'll set it up so it's ready for when the pizza arrives. I'll call out for you when the pizza's here, and if you're not both downstairs in five minutes, I will eat not only _four_ slices of chicken, bacon and aioli pizza, but I'll also get a stick of garlic bread to myself as well."

 

"Don't bet on it, Dad," Stiles muttered, but grabbed Derek's hand and led him upstairs anyway.

 

Stiles made sure that Derek concentrated on the road outside so he'd hear when the pizza was arriving, then straddled his waist and kissed him eagerly, nipping at the curve of his shoulder and neck. Derek tilted his head to give Stiles better access to his neck, stroking Stiles' tail as he bit and licked at his skin.

 

"You have to be safe, Stiles. I need you; you can't die on me," Derek murmured.

 

"I don't plan on it. Seriously, you're stuck with me," Stiles said, tone serious despite his grin.

 

Derek nodded, then pressed a firm kiss to Stiles' mouth. "Same to you, Stilinski. Pizza's here," he added, his fingers lingering for a moment as he stroked Stiles' tail once more before letting him go.

 

"We've still got five minutes before we have to be downstairs," Stiles said with a suggestive grin and eyebrow wiggle.

 

"Nothing we do lasts less than five minutes, Stiles. I'd prefer not to find out which strain of wolfsbane bullets your father has locked up," Derek added.

 

They both heard the knocking at the front door, the Sheriff answering to retrieve and pay for the multiple pizzas. The delivery guy knew by now not to ask if there was a party going on.

 

"Wait, he's got wolfsbane bullets? Why didn't he tell me? When did you find out?"

 

"Yes. Ask your father. Around the time he shot me with a regular bullet for dating you and threatened to get the wolfsbane ones out," Derek replied, tugging Stiles to his feet.

 

Stiles cupped Derek's cheek, his thumb stroking his stubbled jawline gently. "My hero."

 

"Dork; you're lucky I love you," Derek murmured, turning his head to nuzzle Stiles' palm and press a kiss to his warm skin.

 

"Yeah, I am," Stiles agreed breathlessly. "Love you too, Derek."

 

"I know," Derek replied, taking Stiles' hand from his face, and leading him out of the bedroom and downstairs before the Sheriff could call out for them.

 

...

 

Stiles' not-so-friendly neighbourhood kidnapper/stalker either thought weekends were sacred, or he just wanted Stiles to be on edge for two days straight. Derek had gone home on Friday night after finishing his pizzas and helping the Sheriff and Stiles organise a plan for when he would be kidnapped again, but had since stayed at the loft as per the Sheriff's request. Stiles still sent Derek half a dozen texts over the course of the day, and actually received some replies, so he knew that Derek was worried and missed him too.

 

Deaton had called on Saturday afternoon to let Stiles know that he wouldn't be available that weekend due to the emergency labours at Ryder farm. It seemed that all of the animals were experiencing a higher level of oxytocin than normal, speeding up the contractions and birthing rates. He suspected other hormones were also in play to have so many animals birthing, but hadn't had a chance to run any tests due to how busy he was - even Scott had been called to help, and the farmer and his wife were helping as well. Deaton promised to see Stiles on Monday afternoon after school, and with the sound of neighing and meowing in the background, he hung up to continue his veterinarian duties for the rest of the weekend. Stiles was left staring at his phone for a minute, wondering if he'd accidentally made all of those animals start birthing early. It was only a brief reprieve from worrying about his stalker, however, since nothing would be done until Monday.

 

After his father had caught Stiles looking out of the kitchen window for the third time in ten minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was stalking him, the Sheriff had taken Stiles by the shoulder and made him watch _Star Wars_ with him for the rest of the afternoon. Never before had Stiles had so much trouble concentrating on his favourite sci-fi films. The end credits for _A New Hope_ rolled, and Stiles almost felt _relieved_ that it was over.

 

"We've planned everything perfectly, Stiles, okay? You don't have to be worried or anxious," John said, rubbing Stiles on the back gently.

 

"Good luck with that one, Pops," Stiles said with a scoff. "I might've been the one to suggest it, but it doesn't mean I can't worry about it. What if he's smarter than us, what if the plan goes wrong?"

 

"It won't, Stiles, and do you know why?"

 

Stiles shook his head.

 

"Because, apart from Lydia, you're the smartest kid I know. You planned this, and it will not go wrong because no one's smarter than you, especially when it comes to my job," the Sheriff added with a somewhat pointed look, probably all too aware that Stiles still had his own police scanner hidden in his wardrobe.

 

Stiles nodded, grateful for the pep talk, and gave his dad a quick hug. "Thanks, Pops."

 

"You're welcome. Now that you're feeling better, why don't you put in the next DVD?"

 

"Slave labour, that's what this is," Stiles groaned good-naturedly as he rolled off the couch to crawl over to the DVD player.

 

John simply shook his head at his son and waited for him to return to the couch.

 

...

 

"Stiles, would you concentrate already? You're going to make me look bad," Lydia hissed at him, throwing a quick smile at the teacher as she passed.

 

"No, I won't. I'll just stand back and let you do your thing, you'll be fine," Stiles said, preoccupied as he looked out of the classroom window towards the parking lot.

 

Lydia muttered something under her breath that had Scott looking scandalised, then kicked Stiles sharply in the shin.

 

"Ow! Geez, Lyds, what's your problem? And what the hell are your shoes made out of, fuck," Stiles hissed, bending down to rub his sore shin.

 

"I told you already, this is a group project, you have to concentrate. It's not something I can get us all through because we're all being individually marked. If any of you bring my grade down, I will hurt each and every one of you, understood?"

 

Kira's eyes widened and she nodded quickly, Scott a second behind her. Stiles' shin throbbed in pain, and he forced himself to stop looking out of the window and concentrate.

 

The class ended with most of the project work done, and Stiles actually participating for the first time all day. He had a free period next, and then he'd be driving straight to Deaton's to hopefully get a straight answer from the usually-cryptic Druid-slash-vet. Derek had promised to meet him there after work (Stiles still hadn't seen Derek in his cop uniform, despite begging several times since Derek officially started working on the force), and Stiles just wanted the school day to be over already.

 

"What're you doing now, Stiles?" Scott asked, sounding both curious and wary.

 

"Heading to the library; they got the book in that Dr. Geyer and Deaton told me about. Thank fuck for librarians that don't ask questions," Stiles added, grinning.

 

"We'll go with you; I've got to finish off my Chemistry homework, might as well do it there," Kira said brightly.

 

"We had Chemistry homework?" Scott asked, eyes wide.

 

"I'll help you," Lydia offered, Scott looking relieved.

 

They all headed to the library, and Malia arrived a few minutes later. Stiles borrowed his book and after producing his doughnut pillow with a flourish that had the others rolling their eyes, he sat down and started to read the book. He mostly read to distract himself from the library's windows, though the book was engrossing and Stiles found that he was already itching for a highlighter, and making himself tap on the table instead.

 

Concentrating on their own topics as they were, Malia getting her Chemistry homework checked by Lydia as Kira tried to finish hers, and Scott frantically tried to start his, it all took them a few seconds to realise they weren't hearing any of Stiles' usual sounds. Lydia looked over at him first, frowning in concern when she saw the glazed expression on his face. Malia followed her gaze, as did Kira, who nudged Scott firmly to get him to notice as well.

 

"Stiles? You all right there, buddy?" Scott asked, wary and all too aware of how many witnesses were in the library.

 

"I can smell it again," Stiles replied, voice longing as he turned to stare out of the windows and towards the forest. "It's outside, waiting for me. It wants me... I need it," he announced, standing up abruptly.

 

"Oh, no you don't. Sit him down, quick," Scott hissed at the others.

 

Malia immediately jumped over the table to tackle Stiles down to his chair, Kira hurrying around the table to hold him down as he struggled against Malia and almost threw her off. Lydia stood in front of him, hoping to block his view of whatever was outside. Scott grabbed his water bottle, unscrewed the lid, and threw it in Stiles' face. Stiles didn't seem bothered by the water this time and tried to get up again. Malia fell backwards, almost hitting her head on the table. She stood with a growl and tackled Stiles again, pulling him down off the chair and to the ground, pulling Kira down along with them. Scott saw that they weren't going to be enough to hold Stiles down and joined the dogpile, watching as Stiles slowly came back to himself as their combined scents overrode whatever was outside.

 

"Um... Hi?" Stiles said, looking between them in confusion.

 

"That scent was back, you tried to get out to it again," Scott explained quietly.

 

There was a cough from above them, Danielle looking down at them with an expression that epitomised 'what the fuck?' clearly on her face.

 

"Stiles was trying to convince me to ruin my diet," Lydia lied quickly.

 

There was a moment of silence, Danielle obviously not believing them, and Stiles gave a quick grin. "I'm just saying that one packet of curly fries wouldn't hurt, Lyds! And the cheesecake is purely divine."

 

"Stop it, Lydia's trying to eat healthily; fruit and vegetables only," Kira said clearly, though Scott could tell she was trying not to laugh.

 

"Yeah, like a rabbit," Malia piped up.

 

"Curly fries are made out of potato, that's a vegetable!" Stiles argued.

 

"It doesn't count if it's deep fried," Scott replied.

 

"Hey, whose side are you on?"

 

"Uh, guys? Danielle's gone, so can you get up and clean the water before it ruins the books?" Lydia asked. "And Scott's right: it doesn't count if it's deep fried."

 

They got up quickly and cleaned the mess, arguing over the validity of diets along the way. Every so often, Scott would catch Stiles looking out of the window almost longingly, and prompted him with an obvious lie to get him involved in the conversation again. Eventually, they were asked to leave the library because school had finished ten minutes ago and they were making the librarian hungry.

 

Stiles' hands were shaking, his senses still messed up from earlier, and it didn't take much convincing from Scott to let him drive Roscoe to Deaton's. He sat in the passenger seat, his belt on tight as if that would stop him from jumping out of the moving car if he smelled that scent again, and closed his eyes for the twenty minute drive.

 

As soon as they pulled up to the veterinarian clinic and Stiles saw Derek's car waiting, he let out an audible sigh of relief. Scott kept a hand on Stiles' arm as they walked inside, despite not having anything happen on the drive over, and he could tell that Stiles was thankful even though he muttered about not being so old that he needed someone to walk him inside.

 

"Derek," Stiles breathed out on seeing him, feeling relieved and calmer all at once.

 

Stiles pulled away from Scott's loose grip and ran to Derek, wrapping his arms around him firmly and breathing in his scent immediately.

 

"What's wrong, Stiles?" Derek asked, rubbing his back gently even as he felt the rush of Stiles' heartbeat against his chest and the worry that exuded from both Stiles and Scott.

 

Stiles just buried his face against Derek's neck, his nose pressed against the claiming mark he'd put there on the weekend.

 

"The scent was at the school again. Stiles wanted to follow it, and it took all of us to hold him down," Scott explained when he realised that Stiles wasn't going to answer.

 

Derek's hold tightened on Stiles, and Stiles nipped at his neck briefly, a few spots of blood teasing against his tongue and helping to calm him further. He closed his eyes as he felt his claim mark throb in response, and Derek resumed stroking his back even as his neck healed.

 

"Is there anything that can be done to stop Stiles' response to whoever this creep is?" Derek asked Deaton.

 

"It's difficult to say; it depends on what they are using to attract Stiles. You said it was faint for you, Scott?" Deaton asked, Scott nodding firmly in response.

 

"I could barely scent it, even this afternoon, but Stiles just... I don't even know, but he just started drooling over it," Scott said, trying to find a word that fit his friend's response.

 

"It might be a hunter that specialises in vampires and incubi?" Derek suggested, though he sounded doubtful.

 

"It's a possibility, but I don't think there are enough vampires and incubi in the world to keep a hunter gainfully employed and specialised in them," Deaton said, shaking his head.

 

"Chris hasn't mentioned anyone coming to Beacon Hills," Scott said with a frown.

 

"They don't want to hurt me," Stiles said.

 

"They kidnapped you and had you tortured, Stiles."

 

"I know that, but before when I was hypnotised or whatever, I could _feel_ it. They _want_ me. No, not just that; they _need_ me, and they want me to need them, too. They're desperate."

 

Deaton looked at Stiles for a moment, seriously considering his words. Then he seemed to realise something, his body tensing briefly, and he hurried out of the room without a word of explanation.

 

"I swear, if this was a shitty horror movie, Deaton would die without passing on the important knowledge that could save someone's life. Seriously, give us an explanation before mysteriously leaving the room!" Stiles called after him.

 

Derek shook his head and eased his hold on Stiles gently. Stiles pressed a quick kiss to his claim mark before stepping back, then his eyes widened and he gave a piercing wolf whistle.

 

"Nice uniform, Officer Hale," Stiles said, winking at him.

 

Derek blushed under his boyfriend's scrutiny, and Scott winced and playfully gagged at Stiles' rocketing scent of lust.

 

"Get a room, geez," Scott muttered.

 

"You're just jealous you don't have a smoking hot boyfriend like I do."

 

Scott didn't get a chance to reply, as Deaton returned, carrying a large book that looked older than some of the ones in the Hale vault.

 

"Where do you even buy these books, Deaton? They're not exactly easy to find on Amazon, y'know? _One book, old as balls, written in an ancient language, may cause possession_."

 

"They are in bookstores, if you know where to look. Now, you said you could feel them, their need and desperation for you, correct?"

 

"Give him a prize, Johnny!"

 

Deaton gave Stiles a look that said he clearly wasn't impressed, and returned his attention to the book, continuing to flip through the pages carefully.

 

"Usually when incubi come into this world, they take a lover, someone they can use and rely on for their sexual appetite if they are unable to feed on others. It's usually someone with a loyal personality, someone who would be willing to travel the world with them, but some can border on obsessive. It's a personality that works well for the incubi because if they have someone to practically worship them, they will always remain fed, no matter where they go."

 

"Aw, Der-bear, you'd worship me, wouldn't you?" Stiles asked, batting his eyes.

 

"No."

 

Scott had heard enough of Stiles and Derek's exploits to know that Derek was lying, even without hearing the spike in his heartbeat.

 

"I mean actual literal worship here, Stiles. They would have assumed the incubi to be a sexual god or goddess, and given their lives to follow and worship them, basically nothing more than slaves to their every whim and desire. The stronger the incubi, the more worshippers they would have. Some say that is how harems started."

 

"Uh-huh, and how's that relate to me and Stalker McStalkery?"

 

Deaton finally found the page he was looking for and turned the book towards them. "The longer an incubi has a single lover, the more the lover depends on them. If the incubi is lost and the lover can't find them, they will be driven insane unless they can find a replacement. Now, I'm not entirely certain how this differs from vampire-incubi, but I doubt it is good."

 

"So... The vampire that died had a boytoy who's desperate for sex and he's coming after me?"

 

"It would seem that way. The vampire's lover would have had very in-depth knowledge about his or her master and how to create certain responses, such as lust, in them. It's probably how they're attracting you and not the others."

 

"Why now? It's been seven months," Derek muttered.

 

"They may have spent all of this time trying to find their master, mourning, trying to find Stiles, or a combination of the three. I can't say for sure, I'm not a mind-reader," Deaton replied with a shrug.

 

"Now that we know what we're up against, what can we do about it?" Derek asked, both Stiles and Scott looking to Deaton for his answer.

 

"I may be able to lessen Stiles' olfactory senses so he won't be so affected by the scent."

 

"How lessened would they be?" Stiles asked, hand tightening in Derek's grip.

 

"It's highly likely that you will not be able to smell anything at all."

 

Derek let out a snarl at that, but Deaton didn't look away from Stiles.

 

"For how long?"

 

"Dude, you're really considering this?" Scott asked in surprise.

 

"Well, yeah. If it's a blocked nose for a couple of weeks, I'll be able to survive that."

 

"But what about... y'know, that thing you told me about in far too much detail?" Scott said, blushing slightly and very firmly not looking at Derek; Derek wasn't sure he wanted to know.

 

"I can do that again when I get my sense of smell back. I'll get it back, won't I?" Stiles asked, looking at Deaton.

 

"Eventually, yes. The length of time depends, but most have their olfactory sense fully return within a year."

 

"A year? That's a little longer than I was expecting," Stiles admitted.

 

The front door opened, the bell announcing a customer's arrival, and Deaton gave a brief nod to excuse himself.

 

"I'd better go check on the puppies; I'll come back with Deaton," Scott said, leaving and closing the door behind him to give them the semblance of privacy.

 

"You're going to do this, aren't you?" Derek asked with a soft sigh.

 

"Yeah, probably. I just... I don't want this little shit to use me, or use me against you. I've already had that happen with the nogitsune, and I'd really like for it to never happen again. I want... No. I _need_ you to be safe, Derek. As much as you need me safe. You understand?" Stiles asked, pulling him close and hugging him as tight as he had earlier.

 

"Yeah, I do," Derek murmured, hugging him back.

 

"Good, now spread your arms so I can sniff you. Gotta make sure I don't forget," Stiles said, sounding as if he was joking but there was no hint of a lie in his heartbeat.

 

Derek squeezed Stiles' body once more before he stepped back and splayed his arms to the sides, tilting his head back for good measure. Stiles practically jumped on Derek, inhaling at the line of his hair, sniffing at his neck, then moved lower so he could press his nose to Derek's armpit. The glands there secreted the most pheromones, and Stiles didn't hide his joy in being able to smell him so strongly. It smelled as through each pheromone had its own special scent, each one directed towards him, for him alone, and Stiles felt his tail curl around his legs eagerly, like a damn puppy ready to hump the first soft toy in sight. He gave a soft laugh into the warmth of Derek's armpit and pushed his tail away quickly.

 

"Think we've got time for skin contact?" Stiles asked, his nose buzzing with the scent of _Derek-mate-Derek_.

 

Derek tilted his head, listening for Scott's response. He didn't reply to Stiles' question, but one second he was wearing his official BHPD shirt ( _which shouldn't be as hot as it was since his father was on the force, but Derek was hot and could probably wear a paper bag and look good, so what defense could Stiles have, really?_ ), and the next it was sailing over Stiles' head to land on the examination table. Stiles grinned broadly and kissed Derek quickly before ducking his head to Derek's armpit again, scenting his pheromones eagerly. Derek couldn't deny that the action did something to him as well, to have his mate act towards him in such a way that sated his wolf, and he forced himself to stand perfectly still and willed himself not to get an erection over something as simple as Stiles sniffing him.

 

Stiles was tempted to drop to his knees and nuzzle Derek's crotch just for good measure, but decided that the vet clinic was probably one of the top ten unromantic places ever. Although, it did seem as though Derek was enjoying this as much as he was, considering he was already half-hard in his pants. ( _His BHPD uniform pants at that, had Stiles mentioned how much he liked them yet?_ )

 

He suddenly felt as though Deaton was wrong: incubi lovers weren't designed to worship masters, but rather they should be worshipped instead. Stiles wanted every part of his own body to do exactly that with Derek, to smell and touch and kiss and see and taste him. _Soon, he wouldn't be able to smell him at all_. There was a whining sound, and Stiles was embarrassed to realise that it came from him.

 

"It's all right, babe. We'll be fine, okay?" Derek murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

 

"I know, I just... I'm going to miss this," Stiles replied, his voice muffled against Derek's arm.

 

"A year will fly by, okay? And you've still got a spark, so maybe if you believe hard enough, it'll help your sense of smell come back faster," Derek suggested.

 

Stiles nodded. "Luckily, I love you for more than your scent."

 

Derek smiled at him, one of those rare 2500-billion-watt smiles that made Stiles go all gooey inside, and Stiles hugged him in return. Then he bit him just to taste him once more, not knowing when he'd get another chance to that day. Derek tilted his head to the side to allow Stiles better access, and he licked and sucked at the two small holes eagerly.

 

By the time Deaton had finished with his client and gathered the necessary ingredients into a jar, Scott had finished with the puppies. Scott gave a nod that it was safe, and they returned to the examination room to find Derek innocently sitting on the table with Stiles in his lap, curled around each other comfortingly.

 

"And you say I look like someone kicked my puppy," Scott murmured.

 

"Shut up," Stiles replied petulantly. "I'll do it," he said, tone certain and serious as he looked to Deaton.

 

"Losing your sense of smell will affect your tastebuds as well, you're aware of this?"

 

Stiles nodded at Deaton's words and reluctantly untangled himself from Derek's embrace. "All right, I'm ready."

 

"You need to lie down and breathe through your mouth. Derek, hold his arms down. I'm going to put this powder in both of Stiles' nostrils, and Scott, you need to hold his nose closed as soon as I've finished, understood?" Deaton asked.

 

Scott nodded seriously and Derek moved to hold Stiles down on the table. When they were both in position, Deaton moved to the head of the examination table and set his jar down beside Stiles' head and unscrewed the lid.

 

"This will sting a little," he warned, then started to scoop the powder directly into Stiles' nostrils.

 

Stiles _screamed_ as it felt like every nerve ending in his nose was set on fire, then doused in kerosene just for fun. He thrashed on the table, trying to get out of Derek's grip so he could claw the stuff out of his nose, but Derek held him down. Stiles tried to unsuccessfully blow his nose, but Deaton was scooping faster than he could breathe, and Stiles almost choked instead. He felt like his whole face was burning, his nose the direct source of the flame, and he cried in pain as it continued.

 

"Done; Scott, pinch his nostrils together," Deaton said, stepping back with his hands raised.

 

He headed directly to the basin to wash any powder residue from his hands. Scott held Stiles' nose, looking worried, and Derek held his arms, trying to leach his pain at the same time the best he could. Beneath them, Stiles screamed.

 

...

 

End of the first chapter.

Thanks for reading! 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up the next morning, his head pounding, his nose feeling like it had a tonne of cotton wool stuffed up it, and yet it was somehow _still_ burning. He had a vague memory of being carried upstairs by Derek after a brief explanation to the Sheriff (there was possibly some mention of _An Officer and a Gentleman_ , but Stiles didn't know if he'd dreamt it or not). There was a muffled groan beside him, and Stiles rolled over to see Derek lying there, looking as bad as he felt.

 

"You 'kay, Der?" he asked groggily.

 

"Wolf's been howling all night; it thinks you're going to go away or something. Wouldn't let me leave last night. Mind you, neither would you," Derek murmured, pulling Stiles against his chest to hold him close.

 

Stiles breathed in, frowning when he couldn't smell anything, not even a _hint_ of Derek's scent. He couldn't even smell the lingering scent after the impromptu sniff-fest they'd had yesterday afternoon. He couldn't smell himself either, and after everything he'd gone through in the last 24 hours, Stiles doubted he smelled like a rose garden.

 

"This is weird. I can't smell _anything_ ," Stiles muttered, resting his head on Derek's shoulder to go back to sleep.

 

"Mmm, it would be. Sleep now."

 

"Wait, what's the time?" Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder to his bedside clock. "Shit, I'm **so** late for school."

 

"Your dad already rang, said you'd come down with a head cold. Sleep now," Derek repeated, pulling Stiles back down.

 

Stiles let out a sigh of relief and curled up on Derek's chest. He sniffed a few times, scrunching up his sore nose when he still couldn't smell anything, but forced himself to go back to sleep instead of worrying about it. Like Derek had said, a year would fly by.

 

...

 

"I'm going out for groceries this afternoon," Stiles said after they finally dragged themselves out of bed later that morning. "Need anything?"

 

Across the table, Derek forced himself to stay relaxed, not to tense his shoulders, to act as if nothing was amiss. "Pancake mix and butter. Get the gluten free mix and the low cholesterol butter, and I'll make them up before your father knows there's anything different."

 

"Aw, see, now it's things like that that make me love you even more," Stiles cooed. "Want me to prove it?" he added suggestively, giving Derek a wink.

 

Derek swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded, letting Stiles lead him upstairs. "Love you, Stiles."

 

Stiles nodded firmly, biting at his bottom lip. "I know." Then he let out a somewhat hysterical laugh and shook his head. "I don't think I really understood it before now. I mean, I've seen the interviews and special features about it a hundred times and thought I understood, but now I really get it."

 

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, pausing in his efforts to get out of his pants and briefs, the material pooled around his ankles.

 

"When Princess Leia tells Han Solo that she loves him, she does it before he's taken by Boba Fett, and Han doesn't know if he'll survive the carbonite freezing or whatever Jabba the Hutt will do to him, so he can't bring himself to say he loves her too, even though it's obvious that he does. So he says 'I know' instead, because he loves her enough to not want Leia to be left with a declaration of love when he might not be able to come back to her to keep it."

 

Stiles knew that he was babbling, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, and rather than tell him he was being stupid, Derek listened until he did stop, caressing his cheek gently when his words ending with a sob.

 

"Hey, hey, you're coming back, okay?" Derek murmured, tugging Stiles close and kissing the top of his head. "Even if you can't come back because of something that stalker does to you, I will find you, and I will bring you back, all right? I'll always find you."

 

"Promise?" Stiles asked, sniffling.

 

"I promise."

 

"Good. You bring me back here, because it's where I belong, okay? With you, and Dad, and Scott, and everyone else. Don't let me stay with that bastard, no matter what I say or do, okay?"

 

"Okay," Derek murmured.

 

He kicked off his pants and briefs, then moved to sit on Stiles' bed, pulling him onto his lap firmly. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pressed his nose to the curve of his neck. Stiles moved slowly, pressing gentle kisses to Derek's face, his forehead, cheeks, each of his eyelids, one to the tip of his nose, then a firmer one to his lips. Derek chased Stiles' lips, to draw him back to him, to where he belonged, and Stiles relented for a moment, melting against Derek's mouth and hands.

 

Derek tugged Stiles' shirt off, his mouth fanged and firm against his claiming mark on Stiles' shoulder. The contact made Stiles moan low, his fingers clutching to Derek's shoulders as if they were at sea and he was afraid of floating away. Stiles manoeuvred himself until his pants and boxers were off, and he reached behind Derek for the lube. His tail had started to rub against Derek already, the heart-shaped ends curved around until it was phallic-shaped instead, and Stiles used the remaining lube from his hand to slick up the end of his tail.

 

Derek's hand covered his, slowing his motions until he was stroking his tail like it was his cock, and damn that felt _good_. Stiles moaned something along those lines, Derek grinning against his shoulder, and slipped his slick hand further down to the rougher skin of his tail. He scraped his nails along Stiles' tail gently, watching as it stiffened and straightened, the very end straining towards him eagerly and practically unseating Stiles from between his legs.

 

"Hey, careful, or neither of us get to fuck him," Stiles muttered to his tail, slowing his strokes to be in sync with Derek's ministrations.

 

"Your tail has to be an embodiment of your libido; I swear it wants me just as much as the rest of you," Derek said with a broad grin.

 

"Well, duh. If my pinkie was as self-aware as my tail, it would probably be doing the same thing," Stiles said, leaning forward to rub his cheek against Derek's stubbled jawline.

 

Both Derek and Stiles' grips were loose enough on his tail that it slipped free of their hold, nudged its way beneath Stiles and pressed up against Derek's ass firmly.

 

"We've talked about prepping, haven't we? Get back here," Stiles scolded, tugging his tail back sharply.

 

Derek slid his hand to where Stiles' tail had just rested and started to prepare himself, watching Stiles' expressions as he watched.

 

"You're beautiful," Derek murmured, using his free hand to pull Stiles close and kiss him.

 

"Y-yeah?" Stiles asked, surprised and blushing slightly. "I mean, you are too. Always, even when you've spent the weekend doing nothing but lazing about and eating Doritos with me, and that should be unfair, but it's kinda not as well."

 

"You need to take compliments better," Derek said a little breathlessly, slipping a second finger in.

 

Stiles grinned. "Going to be hard when you're the only one who compliments me, du- uh, Derek."

 

He raised his eyebrow; Stiles calling him 'dude' while they were having sex (or in the prelude to having sex) was something he'd pointed out early on in their relationship that was a total mood killer. Stiles had agreed, only to realise soon after just how many times he called Derek 'dude' both in and out of the bedroom.

 

"Then I'll have to compliment you more," Derek murmured, kissing Stiles again and tugging his tail close.

 

His tail didn't even wait for Stiles to realise what was going on and slipped inside Derek eagerly, stretching him fiercely. Derek loved the feel of it, of Stiles inside him, and he pulled his hand free to stroke at Stiles' cock.

 

"Give a guy some warning next time. _Fuck_ ," Stiles groaned, his hips hitching forward in time with his tail and Derek's hands.

 

Derek just grinned back at him, moving his hips up so Stiles' tail could thrust in deeper. Stiles' eyes practically rolled back in his head as his first orgasm came over him, his cock spilling out on Derek's abdomen. Stiles gripped Derek's shoulder tightly with one hand, using the other to stroke Derek's cock as well. He didn't time his strokes, didn't keep them slow and steady like Derek was, instead he alternated between gripping Derek tight and stroking, twisting his fist over the tip of Derek's cock.

 

Stiles continued with his sporadic motions until he saw that Derek was getting close to orgasm. As soon as he saw the usual warning signs - Derek's eyes filtering to gold and his breathing getting laboured - Stiles stopped completely. The groan that Derek let out was closer to a whine than a roar, and Derek bucked up against his tail.

 

"Stiles," he growled in warning.

 

Stiles looked down at him and grinned. "Yes, Der-bear?"

 

"Why'd you stop?"

 

"'Cause I want you to fuck me."

 

Derek's response was instantaneous: he came with a deafening roar, then bit down on his claiming mark so hard that Stiles began to bleed. Stiles hummed happily at the ache, stroking his fingers through Derek's hair as he waited for his fangs to retract. Stiles eagerly returned the favour, biting down on his claiming mark on Derek's neck and licking the drops of blood that formed. He was slightly disappointed to find that Derek's blood didn't taste the same as it had only yesterday, despite knowing that losing his sense of smell would affect his tastebuds. The blood wasn't quite as sweet, a little more metallic, and bordered on bitter. Stiles could still feel his claim and recognise Derek as his mate through the different taste, and that mattered more than the sweetness or richness that had accompanied his blood earlier.

 

Stiles' tail was slowly thrusting in and out of Derek, sated by his first orgasm and the trembling of Derek's ass during his orgasm too. Stiles pulled it out of Derek gently, wiped his pulsing tail off, and then pressed it against his own ass to prepare for his lover. Derek let out a soft whine as he pulled away from Stiles, licking the blood clean before he carefully and methodically rubbed their drying ejaculate against Stiles' body. Stiles knew he was trying to mark and claim him even further than the bite would, trying to assert his claim over Stiles so the stalker might reconsider, and Stiles waited patiently until Derek was satisfied with his work.

 

His tail had stretched him enough that when Derek was finished a few minutes later, he slid into Stiles without needing to wait. Stiles' back arched, his tail curling around Derek and pulling him closer still. Derek began to thrust, his movements as firm and slow as his hand had been when it was wrapped around Stiles' cock earlier.

 

Stiles whimpered as Derek grazed again his prostate, arching his hips so he could hit against it again. Derek knew the second he'd done that because Stiles squeezed his ass around him firmly, his name a stuttered groan, and Stiles' tail tightened around his waist. He held his mate in that position and continued to fuck into him with sure and certain movements, listening as Stiles cried out his name over and over each time. Stiles came with a scream, but was hard and wanting again within seconds, his tail keeping Derek close.

 

Derek felt his control slipping, his fangs sliding out and claws extending even before he could think about stopping them. Derek's movements became more erratic, claws digging in to Stiles' hips as he fucked him harder still. His eyes filtered to gold, but it didn't stop there with an orgasm as it usually did. Derek could feel something happening to his cock, more than just his normal orgasm, but he couldn't stop. The heat and feel of his mate, his Stiles, drove him to fuck him harder, just as much as Stiles' pleas and moans did. It happened all at once. Derek's wolf howled loudly, his claws pierced Stiles' hips, and he surged forward to bite down on his claiming mark, just as his cock expanded into a fist-sized knot and tied them together. He came inside Stiles so hard that he whited out briefly.

 

When Derek became aware of his surroundings once more, he realised that he was getting blood everywhere and retracted both his fangs and claws from Stiles' body. Without him holding him up, Stiles slumped forward bonelessly onto the mattress. Derek was worried for a moment, thinking that he'd accidentally bled Stiles dry, and there was no way they were going to the hospital knotted like this, but Stiles let out a sigh.

 

"Stiles? Babe, you okay?" Derek asked, needing reassurance anyway.

 

Stiles just sighed again. Derek carefully helped Stiles sit up, resting him against his chest, and tried not to be too worried. Stiles turned his head to look at him with lust-glassed eyes and a soft smile.

 

"I want to marry your dick and have it knot my ass forever."

 

Derek let out a huff of relief, amusement and annoyance all rolled into one, and kissed Stiles slowly and luxuriously.

 

"How'me you've never knotted me 'fore?" Stiles asked groggily, licking his lips and tugging Derek's blood-covered fingers up to lick with all the carefulness of someone drunk and trying desperately to act sober.

 

"I'm not sure. I didn't think it was a real thing, honestly," Derek replied, glancing down to where his cock was buried and stuck in Stiles' ass.

 

He was _still_ cumming, almost two minutes later, and if he wasn't so sure about this being a werewolf thing, Derek would be booking a doctor's appointment for the morning.

 

Stiles mumbled something around Derek's fingers, presumably words, but he had no hope of deciphering them with Stiles the way he was, and slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

 

"Repeat that?"

 

"Best sex ever. So far," Stiles added, frowning.

 

"Hmm, all right, time for you to sleep. We've got a kidnapping to stage and you need to be alert and stay alive, okay, Stiles?"

 

"Stay 'lert and be 'live," he agreed, resting his head back on Derek's shoulder, falling asleep in the next heartbeat, snoring loudly.

 

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek and held him close while he still could.

 

...

 

"My ass is killing me, and yet I _still_ want your knot in back me as soon as possible. There's something messed up about that and I love it," Stiles said, grinning.

 

Derek kissed him instead of answering, a little desperate, clinging on for a little longer than usual. Stiles didn't seem inclined to let go of him either, and there was a pointed cough from the doorway that had them both reluctantly pulling away.

 

"I honestly wish I could say that I hadn't heard Stiles' last statement, but unfortunately, that's not true," the Sheriff muttered, looking a little queasy. "I brought you a gift, to help with your fitness stuff, and I deserve a beer for - " he trailed off, pointed at them and kind of waved his hand at the two of them " - _that_."

 

"Thanks for the gift, Dad," Stiles said, eagerly taking the offered bag from him.

 

"I'll get your beer," Derek said, blushing slightly as he headed to the kitchen.

 

Before he could even open the fridge, the Sheriff was at the doorway. "Better not, son. I'd prefer to be sober. But I'll have a deserved beer when this is all over," he added, Derek nodding quickly in response.

 

"Of course, sir."

 

"You should probably go help Stiles with his fit... _thing_ , I'm not sure I'll be able to understand what's needed in time," the Sheriff admitted.

 

"Yes, sir," Derek said, slipping past to go to the lounge room where Stiles was setting up his fitbit surge with far too much excitement to be faked.

 

"And stop calling me _sir!_ " John called after him.

 

"Yes, sir!" Stiles and Derek called back, Stiles laughing.

 

Stiles tugged on Derek's arm, sitting him on the couch next to him. "I've set it all up, and got an account for it," he said, showing him the laptop screen.

 

"Uh-huh, and that red dot is supposed to show where you are?" Derek asked sceptically.

 

"Yep. As long as my fitbit is connected to the internet, it'll sync every fifteen minutes."

 

"Explain again how it's going to connect to the internet while you're being kidnapped and possibly tortured?" John asked, voice and chest tight as he walked in with a bottle of water.

 

"I'll make my phone a hotspot with its wireless internet, and then sync it up with my fitbit."

 

"I have no idea what that means, but do it now and make sure it works," John said, leaving no room for discussion.

 

Stiles nodded, pulled his phone out of his pocket and with a few taps on the screen, had turned the hotspot on. He tapped the fitbit and the screen lit up.

 

"All done. But this is going to drain both my phone and the fitbit really damn fast, so you've got an hour to find me, tops."

 

"What's the account name and password, in case it times out and logs off?" Derek asked, nodding at the laptop screen.

 

"Account name is stiles4derek, and the password is derek'shuge... I'm _kidding_ , don't look at me like that!" Stiles said, waving his hands at both of them. "Account name is SStilinski, password is lacrosse24. Not the most secure password in the world, but it'll do for a temporary thing."

 

"Log out, make sure we can log in again on our own," John muttered, still looking apprehensive about Stiles' first choice of password.

 

After they'd both managed to log in to the fitbit account by themselves, John nodded reluctantly.

 

"If you want to back out, you tell me. Any time you want, from now until that psycho picks you up, got it?" he said, pulling Stiles in firmly for a hug.

 

"Got it, Dad. I'll be okay. Like you said, I'm the one that planned this, it'll go off without a hitch."

 

Derek didn't point out that neither of their hearts stayed steady at Stiles' supposedly self-assured statement, mostly because he couldn't say that his did either. Once John had finished hugging Stiles, Derek pulled him in, trying to be discreet as he bit at his claiming mark once more. It was bruising and purple from Derek's earlier bite, but Stiles had loved it, stating that his own bite on Derek's shoulder would have looked just the same if not for werewolf healing. (Pouting had been involved.)

 

John didn't even bother trying to be discreet as he left the lounge room to get another bottle of water and the shopping list for Stiles.

 

...

 

Stiles was regretting buying the ice cream. He was broken down on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing, and he was tempted to eat the ice cream for himself.

 

"C'mon, Dad, hurry up," Stiles groaned, thunking his head against his steering wheel.

 

He looked at his heart rate, saw it was spiked, and forced himself to breathe deeply and calm down. _Nothing had happened yet. Everything was fine. Maybe his stalker wasn't interested in stalking or kidnapping him again?_

 

There was a rap at the window, and Stiles let out a yelp of surprise ( _and fear, lots and lots of fear_ ) as he turned to look at whoever had knocked. He wound his window down, not willing to get out of his Jeep just yet.

 

"What?!" he snapped at the stranger.

 

"Uh, you're broken down. I was going to offer you a lift?" the guy replied, looking somewhat confused and embarrassed.

 

Stiles looked at the guy, trying to determine if he was his stalker. He looked fairly normal, nothing like what an vampire-incubus could probably get if they'd actually put some effort into choosing their lover. Overall, the guy was as unremarkable and forgettable as Greenberg, and that was saying something. He looked like a simple, normal, concerned citizen trying to be a good Samaritan.

 

 _Shit, what if I leave with some innocent citizen instead of my stalker?_ Stiles hadn't thought of that possibility. _Double shit._

 

"Nah, I'm all right. I already called someone to come pick me up, so I'll wait for them."

 

The man's expression changed from confused and embarrassed to confused and angry. "I'll have to insist that you come with me, Stiles."

 

Stiles blinked in surprise. _The Greenberg-lookalike was his stalker?_

 

"Seriously? You're the one that's been stalking me? You had me kidnapped and tortured? _You_ , _really?_ "

 

"What's going on? Why aren't you following me?" the man hissed.

 

"Oh, you're doing some pheromone thing? Yeah, I've got a cold. My nose is totally blocked," Stiles said, coughing once and not even _trying_ to make it sound real.

 

Apparently, his stalker didn't want him for his sense of humour.

 

The man opened the Jeep door and pulled Stiles out of the vehicle roughly. "You'll come with me whether you want to or not!" he snarled at Stiles, then lifted his foot.

 

Apparently, his stalker didn't want him for his looks either.

 

Pain exploded across his face and Stiles blacked out completely.

 

...

 

When the car was out of sight, John pulled his cruiser out onto the road, Scott and Derek in the back seat. Scott had barely been able to hold Derek back when Stiles' stalker pulled him out of the car and knocked him out, but John was glad that he had. He didn't have enough money to pay for any damages to his car after buying that fit thing.

 

"Remind me again why we're not just saving Stiles right now?" Scott asked in confusion, the laptop sitting between him and Derek in the back seat, watching as the red dot that was Stiles moving even further away.

 

"We need to know if his stalker has any more accomplices, and what he's been using to hypnotise Stiles. If Deaton can determine whatever it is he's been using, then he can work on a specific solution rather than blocking his nose up every year," John replied.

 

He didn't like the answer any more than Scott did, but he could understand Stiles' need to know what had affected him and why.

 

Once the cruiser had stopped beside Stiles' Jeep, Scott jumped out to drive it back to the Stilinski residence and put the shopping away for them. Derek slid into the front seat with the laptop on his lap, and gave a nod to the Sheriff once he had his belt clicked into place.

 

"Wait," Scott called, holding a calico shopping bag up to the door. "Stiles left a note saying this was for you and the Sheriff."

 

"What is it?" Derek asked, frowning.

 

Scott looked in the bag, then grinned at him through the window. "Two tubs of Ben & Jerry's and two spoons."

 

John immediately pressed the button to lower Derek's window.

 

...

 

Stiles woke up to find himself shackled to a wire fence with a piece of duct tape across his mouth. He panicked for a moment before forcing himself to breathe out of his nose. His tail was tied up as well, but it ached as though it had fought off his attacker and lost. Stiles glanced up awkwardly, and was somewhat relieved to see the fitbit still around his wrist. Looking around the sparse room he was being kept in, he saw his wallet and phone sitting on a table. Beside it was a laptop and set of speakers. After last time, Stiles definitely didn't have a good feeling about _those_.

 

"You're awake, good. Now, let's get rid of that pesky claiming mark, shall we?"

 

Stiles frowned slightly when he saw that his stalker had a black eye. His tail throbbed with anger rather than pleasure as was the norm, and Stiles realised that his tail really _had_ tried to fight the guy off. Stiles would have to remember to reward his tail later; maybe he'd let it fuck Derek without waiting next time, they'd both like that. He tried not to laugh when his tail pulsed in excitement at his thought. He was kidnapped, this was meant to be _serious_ business.

 

"What was that?" his stalker-kidnapper asked, walking over and ripping the duct tape off his face.

 

"Ow! Fuck!"

 

" _Language_ , Stiles," Stalker McKidnapper tutted.

 

"Fuck you."

 

Stalker McKidnapper laughed. "Soon you'll be _begging_ me for exactly that."

 

"I don't think so, you fucking creep."

 

He didn't seem perturbed by Stiles' forceful answer, and headed back over to the table with the laptop and speakers. "Now, what do you think is more tasteful: ' _three lesbians, a jacuzzi, and waterproof dildos_ ' or ' _thick, uncut linebacker fucks nerdy twink_ '?"

 

"What the fuck? Seriously, I like wanking as much as the next guy - probably more, in fact - but what _the actual fuck_ is it with the fucking porn?"

 

"It's the easiest way to break your bond with whoever you're fucking. You'll eventually get so horny that you'll fuck anyone in sight, and your bond can be ... shifted."

 

Stiles remembered how desperate he'd been the last time he'd been kidnapped, how he'd begged and pleaded for release, needing _anyone_ , so far gone that he hadn't even spared a thought for Derek. He felt sick at the thought of it happening again, of being bonded to this fucking creep, and barely refrained from puking.

 

"Hmm, I think the linebacker will be a good start, don't you?" Stalker asked, pressing the play button without waiting for an answer.

 

"Okay, so you're obviously obsessed with sex or something; why haven't you gone on Craigslist already and fucked your way through the lonely hearts section? Seriously, someone out there has got to be into your 'tie someone up and torture them with porn' fetish. It's probably someone else's wildest sex dream come true. Emphasis on the **_someone else_** ," Stiles added.

 

"It's not a fetish!" Stalker snapped, both of them ignoring the stilted dialogue of the badly scripted porn playing through the speakers. "You have no idea what being a vampire-incubus _means_ , do you? You honestly think that you have it under control because you have _one_ plaything? You have no idea what you are, what you can do... I can show you what it really means to live like this."

 

"Derek's _not_ a plaything," Stiles snapped. "And if **this** is how you plan on _showing_ me anything, then I'm not fucking interested!"

 

"Don't worry, Stiles. You will be."

 

The smile that Stalker gave him was a fuck tonne creepier than anything the Grinch could pull off, and Stiles shuddered. He hoped that his father and Derek would arrive sooner rather than later. The less time he spent with this creep, the better.

 

...

 

End of the second chapter.

 

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

"I should've let Scott take the tubs of ice cream back to the house," John muttered.

 

Derek just nodded, not feeling well enough to talk. Stress eating must be contagious - as well as hereditary - because he never had been much of a stress eater before dating Stiles. Or sitting in the car with Stiles' anxious father, who ate his own tub of ice cream in record time.

 

Stiles' laptop was sitting between them, and they could see the rate of his heart, his location, and they were still driving towards it as fast as the law would allow. Derek's hands were curled into fists, his claws out and practically embedded into his palms with every spike in Stiles' heartbeat. As soon as they found him, Derek was going to tear Stiles' stalker apart limb by limb for hurting his mate like this.

 

...

 

Stiles felt like hours had passed, though he doubted they had. He sighed heavily, trying to think of a way to get something out of this. The guy was obviously working alone, and had everything neatly labelled on shelves, so Stiles was pretty sure he and Deaton would be able to figure it out without needing Stalker. He hoped so, at least.

 

"The porn is all well and good, I mean, it's the obvious way to get a guy like me turned on," Stiles said, "but you know what _really_ gets me going?"

 

For a moment, it seemed as though Stalker wouldn't answer. But then he succumbed to his curiosity, looking away from the computer screen still playing the porn. "What?"

 

" _Talking_. Like, intellectual talking. A conversation, y'know?"

 

Stalker blinked, frowning slightly. " _Talking?_ "

 

"Mm-hmm. I like guys with brains. I mean, I'm not asking for a full detailed history of vampire-incubi, 'cause you probably don't know it - "

 

"You think I don't know more than you do?" Stalker snapped. "The information I know could blow your mind."

 

Stiles forced himself to laugh. "Go ahead then; blow my mind."

 

Stalker looked smug and faced his chair towards Stiles. "What do you want to know first?"

 

"Everything," Stiles replied, trying to smile instead of grimace.

 

"I can't tell you _everything_ ; there'll be no mystery in our relationship then."

 

 _Relationship?! Right. Whatever, weirdo_.

 

"Okayy. Uh, how about pheromones? You did that thing before with scent that drove me wild."

 

"You liked it?" Stalker asked brightly.

 

"I've never smelled anything like it before; it drove me nuts. What was in it?"

 

Now that his ego was sufficiently stroked, Stalker seemed all too happy to answer Stiles' questions. "It was my own personal mix. All of these are," he said, indicating to the wall of vials behind him. "That one was for attraction. I made it a bit more potent than it's meant to be," Stalker admitted, smiling. "This one's to induce weakness, and there's another to increase strength. My Mistress rarely used it, but it helped when some of her followers became resistant."

 

"So, there's more? There are more than just you here?" Stiles asked in surprise.

 

Stalker smiled again, and the sight made Stiles want to cringe away. "Not anymore."

 

"What did you do?"

 

Stalker's smile slipped, his nostrils flaring as he glared. "I did what was necessary to stay alive."

 

"Of course you did. You did what you had to do, I know that," Stiles said, trying to keep from throwing up. "How do you gather the pheromones into the bottles like that? It must take great precision and skill," he said in what he hoped was his most complimentary tone.

 

Stalker preened. "Mistress always said that I was the best collector."

 

"How'd you do it, then? Show me how great you are at collecting."

 

Stalker faltered, blinking in confusion. "I don't have an offering."

 

"Can you get one?"

 

His captor seemed to think about it for a long and hard moment. "I can do that. If I do that, you'll be with me, won't you?" Stalker asked eagerly, eyes beady as he watched Stiles' reaction.

 

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

 

Stalker blinked at Stiles' response, but eventually nodded in satisfaction. The porn that was playing faded away, and he loaded another video, smiling again. "I'll be back soon; you stay here. I'll leave this playing so you'll be ready when I return with the offering. This one's an amateur video, but I know it's one of your favourites."

 

The sound was turned up higher, a woman's sultry moan filling the room around them. Stiles shifted uncomfortably, trying not to focus on the sound, but Stalker just smiled even broader at the motion, thinking he was aroused.

 

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Stalker promised, leaving the room at a fast pace.

 

A door slammed behind him and Stiles sagged against the shackles, his heart pounding at the thought of the next fifteen minutes of this torture. His arms were going dead above him, his whole body ached at being left in a hanging position with his toes unable to touch the ground, and his tail twitched on the fence next to him. Stiles glanced down to it and sighed heavily.

 

"Next time I come up with a plan to get myself kidnapped, do me a favour and knock me out instead."

 

Stiles heard an odd beeping sound and frowned, trying to crane his head to see the source of the noise. His fitbit was flashing on his wrist, unable to sync to his online account. Stiles figured that meant his phone was dead, and the wifi connection was no longer working.

 

"C'mon, hurry up, please," Stiles begged for his dad, Derek, anyone other than Stalker.

 

No one burst in on cue, and he groaned, his chin falling to his chest. Stiles tried not to listen to the porn that was playing, but now that he was alone and only had the sound to concentrate on, he realised that it really was one of his favourite videos from PornHub. The thought of Stalker somehow accessing his online account made Stiles' stomach lurch, and he felt bile burning at the back of his throat. If Stalker had accessed his PornHub account, that meant he'd probably had Stiles' password for his email account as well, and he obviously had no scruples regarding reading someone's personal email. If Stiles survived this, he was going to spend days changing his passwords for _everything_.

 

Stiles tried to clench his hands, to get past the dead feeling in his arms so he could focus on anything other than the video and sound playing overhead. His nerves were strung and despite his best efforts, the incubus side of him made sure that Stiles could could hear every gasp of breath, every lick and kiss and slide of lips, in ways that he'd never heard before. He could feel his dick getting hard and wanted to hate himself for it, but he couldn't stop focusing on the video long enough.

 

"Stop playing, stop playing, stop playing," he pleaded over and over, eyes squeezed tight.

 

The video kept playing, ignoring his pleas to stop. He could hear the ragged breath of the woman on the speakers, the scrape of the man's stubble against her thigh, and he could see the absolute rapture in the man's face as he spread her legs and dipped his head for that first taste. Her hand tightened in his hair and she moaned again as they were joined by another man. This man was closer to Stiles' own physique, broad shoulders with a thin waist, and the way that he worshipped the woman never failed to get Stiles aroused, both men kissing her and praising her, loving her as she desperately tried to rock her body against both of them. The man between her legs moved up to kiss the man behind her, the woman's body pressed between them, and she clutched at both of them eagerly, the camera zooming in on their kiss, their mouths, their tongues. Then he made his way back down to his place between her legs, his fingers thick and hand calloused as he stroked her. The man behind her kissed along the curve of her shoulder and up her neck to bite at her earlobe, his hands stroking around her body to slide up along her ribs gently before finally cupping her breasts, squeezing firmly.

 

Stiles knew what was coming next, knew it better than the moles on the back of his hands, and he could practically feel the heat for himself as the man in the video slid his cock into the woman slowly, her pleas for _more,_ for _harder,_ for _faster_ ignored as he and the other man focused on prolonging her pleasure instead of giving her quick release.

 

Against the fence, his tail was straight as a rod and Stiles ached to have it, something, _anything_ wrapped around his cock so he could desperately get off. Maybe if he got off, he'd have time to recover before Stalker returned. It was a desperate thought - as desperate as the three in the video, begging and cursing and fucking - but Stiles hoped that it would work. Instead of trying _not_ to listen to the video, he did the complete opposite instead.

 

The woman was pleading as both men fucked her, finally giving in to her desire to be fucked more, harder, faster, and Stiles closed his eyes as he listened. His dick was completely hard now and he could feel precum leaking against his briefs. Experimentally, Stiles tried to rock his hips to increase the friction between his cock and his jeans. It wasn't Derek's mouth or hand or ass, or even his own hand or tail, but it was enough to make his cock twitch eagerly anyway. Stiles bit his lip, concentrating for the next part, rolling his hips again and imagining that he was in the video instead. Stubble brushing against his thighs, a dick pressed up against his rim, a mouth swallowing him down until he could feel nothing but wet heat around his cock. He rocked his hips faster, his breathing laboured as he tried desperately to orgasm before Stalker returned. Stiles listened to the woman, the two men as they praised her body and murmured their love for her; there's a reason this is his favourite video because it's in those soft little words that he can tell that these three people actually love each other and aren't just doing the video for money.

 

He usually comes about now, his hand tight and firm around his cock, but Stiles doesn't have that option right now. He tried to focus his pheromones, even without being to smell them, and hoped it will help things along. Stiles was sweating and panting when he finally recognised the warning signs of his impending orgasm, and wanted to sob in relief. This had to be the worst orgasm he'd ever had to date, the action forced and leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Stiles hung on the fence limply, trembling slightly in a mix of relief, self-hate, and a faint hint of pleasure because an orgasm's still an orgasm. He shuddered, feeling dirty, used, and he wanted nothing more than to bathe in anti-bacterial detergent for days.

 

It took Stiles a few minutes to realise that he was crying, but he couldn't hope to do anything about it because the door burst open. His body tensed, and he fought back a whimper, expecting to find Stalker in the doorway with some poor innocent person. Instead, he saw _Derek_ standing there with Stalker. Stalker looked immensely pleased about his capture of the werewolf, but _Derek_ , Derek looked angry enough to tear Stalker apart with his bare hands.

 

With tears still wet on his cheeks and the feelings embroiling inside of him, Stiles wanted to let Derek do exactly that. Instead, he shook his head briefly, trying to tell him that he was okay (even though they both know it for the lie it is), and to do whatever Stalker instructed.

 

Stalker pushed Derek forward, and for the moment, he followed the man's instruction. He trusted Stiles' judgement, even though he could smell the lingering scent of Stiles' orgasm, self-hate, disgust, and fear. Derek curled his fingers in to his palms so he wouldn't be tempted to turn, bury his claws in the man's chest, and **dig** until there's nothing left inside the pathetic and twisted excuse of a human being.

 

"You have to watch carefully, Stiles. It's a very precise skill and it can take years to get it right," Stalker said, kicking out the back of Derek's legs so he'd fall down onto his knees.

 

"I would have knelt if you'd asked," Derek growled.

 

Stalker continued to address Stiles as though Derek hadn't even spoken. "Usually it's better if you can get the offering worked up to the same state you want to collect their pheromones from - lust for lust, hate for hate, love for love, etc. - but you're weak from being tied up, and it's difficult to get them to that state naturally when they've been taken."

 

"Why not just use the emotion he's already feeling?" Stiles suggested.

 

Stalker blinked and gave a shrug, then looked down to Derek. "That could work; it depends on what emotion you're feeling. Well, what are you feeling?" he snapped when Derek didn't answer straight away.

 

Derek looked up to Stiles for a moment. "Fear."

 

"By your expression, I would've guessed anger. But fear works," Stalker said, shrugging.

 

He went to the shelves behind the laptop, grabbed several containers, and pressed the pause button on the video on his way back. Stalker smiled at Stiles generously.

 

"Can't have you losing focus; I know how much you like the next video," Stalker said, eyes bright and crazed.

 

Stiles wanted to throw up and he barely resisted the urge to cringe away.

 

"Shirt off and undo your jeans," Stalker said, glowering down at Derek.

 

"Why do I need to undo my jeans?" Derek asked, hands hesitating on the hem of his shirt.

 

"Because pheromones collected from the genital area are some of the most potent. Do as I said, then drink this," he added, handing a water bottle to Derek. "Urine and sperm are especially potent, but fear pheromones are better from soft tissue areas like behind ears, and the sweat produced in pits and on the back."

 

"How do you collect it?" Stiles asked, drawing Stalker's attention away from Derek.

 

"Well, obviously, mere mortals don't have the same ability as my Mistress or you, so they cannot change pheromones from the physical form like sweat, urine, or sperm into a specific scent. It needs to be gathered from them physically, usually in separate containers from each offering so as not to contaminate the pheromones with others' feelings," Stalker said. "Once enough pheromones have been collected, they can be used to increase desire, attraction, fear, depending on the offering's emotional state when it was collected.

 

"My Mistress preferred pheromones relating to sex and used silk sheets to gather as much sweat and ejaculate as possible. I soaked these for days to distill the scents, which is how I came to create most of the vials you see now. Offerings that are younger usually have more potent pheromones, as their hormones and emotions aren't as controlled as older offerings," Stalker added, wrinkling his nose as he looked back to Derek.

 

"Do you use cotton swabs, gauze, or are silk bedsheets your preferred method?" Stiles asked, a little sarcastically; it seemed exhaustion and torture didn't dim that aspect of his personality.

 

"Gauze works best for individual offerings," Stalker replied, oblivious to Stiles' tone as he began to swab the sweat from Derek's armpits, behind his ears, his neck. "Group offerings are usually better combined, so bedsheets work best. Silk was preferred by my Mistress, not me."

 

"You would have argued with your Mistress about her offerings?" Stiles taunted.

 

Stalker's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. "Never! Mistress was far more sensitive to the feel of silk on her body. As I am not worthy of even a quarter of that feeling, I willingly slept on cotton sheets when I was not worshipping Mistress."

 

"What a hardship. Would you hurry up and finish before Stiles passes out?" Derek snapped.

 

Stalker looked to Stiles in concern. "Are you all right?"

 

"Can I get off this fence?" Stiles asked weakly.

 

"Are you ready to break your bond?"

 

Stiles shook his head briefly. "How do you distill the gauze?" he asked, hoping to redirect Stalker's attention.

 

Stalker stood up and placed the sweat-covered gauze in a separate container, sealing it with an airtight lid. "I distill it in urine collected from the offering, as it makes the pheromones more potent. The old way used to involve animal fat, and then distilling that, but this process is much faster and more efficient. My Mistress let me worship her for three weeks for my discovery."

 

"Lucky you. I'd like to get off the fence now," Stiles said, looking over Stalker's shoulder to where Derek was waiting impatiently.

 

"Any more questions?" Derek asked, barely able to hold back from tearing the bastard apart instantly.

 

"Nothing the Internet can't answer. It's a simple enough process; I probably could've just watched the movie _Perfume_ instead," Stiles admitted with a weary chuckle.

 

"What? B-but, you... You said you'd be with me!" Stalker cried out, looking to Stiles.

 

"No, I didn't," Stiles replied with a scoff.

 

"I answered your questions! You owe me!" Stalker screeched, backing away from Derek and trying to find something to defend himself with.

 

"I don't owe you shit," Stiles said with as much force as he could muster.

 

Derek rolled his neck, his fangs and claws out in a moment, and he stalked forward. Stiles watched as Derek ran his claws through Stalker's chest, Stalker screaming as Derek's claws ripped through flesh, bone, veins and arteries, and crushed his heart entirely.

 

Derek dropped Stalker's lifeless body dropped to the ground a moment later, and stepped over him to get Stiles off the fence.

 

"How are you feeling?" Derek asked, lowering him down gently and releasing his tail next.

 

"Like I've been tortured. Again," Stiles muttered, leaning back against the fence and looking down at his dead arms, trying to will feeling back into them.

 

"There won't be a third time, I promise," Derek said savagely, though he gathered Stiles in his arms with a gentleness that belied his tone.

 

"Sounds good to me," Stiles joked wearily. "Is Dad outside?"

 

"Yeah, he's waiting for the all clear from me; he has an ambulance on the way. Carl will be here soon."

 

"Good ol' Carl. He still won't tell me what he is," Stiles muttered, frowning. "Hey, Pops," he said with a brief smile when he saw the Sheriff outside.

 

"Stiles, are you... The ambulance are on their way. Melissa and Dr. Geyer are waiting at the hospital for you."

 

"Should've brought them ice cream too," Stiles mumbled. "Hey, Pops? Can you get any books you find in there 'fore they get stuck in Evidence? Don't want someone becoming a Stalker copycat if they get their hands on his stuff. Keep the vials for the gross factor; they're full of piss and sweat."

 

"You're serious?" the Sheriff asked, looking between Stiles and Derek.

 

"Yep. He got them for the pheromones, but if people think he was a collector of piss and sweat, it'll make them more sympathetic towards Derek for killing the weirdo."

 

"He's definitely dead?" the Sheriff asked.

 

Derek nodded curtly. "Certain of it, sir."

 

"Hey, there's Carl," Stiles said, waving awkwardly with his pins and needles arm at the ambulance. "Hi Carl."

 

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon, Stiles," Carl replied, a little reproachfully.

 

"Always a pleasure," Stiles snorted, flopping on to the stretcher that was brought over.

 

"I'll ride in the back with you," Derek offered, the Sheriff staying to wait for backup before going into Stalker's hideout.

 

"Mmkay. Carl, you met Derek, right? He's my boyfriend."

 

"I met Derek the last time you were tortured, Stiles. And you already told _everyone_ in the hospital that Derek's your boyfriend. The volunteers needed counselling."

 

Stiles snickered dopily, his eyes closing as the drugs kicked in.

 

Carl offered anti-bacterial wipes to Derek, nodding to his blood-covered fingers. "You wouldn't want to show up to the hospital covered in blood. Again."

 

"Thanks, Carl."

 

"No problem, Derek," Carl replied, eyes flashing purple as he closed the ambulance doors.

 

Derek held Stiles' hand and listened past the sound of the sirens to where Stiles' heart was beating steadily in his chest.

 

Inside of him, his wolf was sated and content, pleased at the way they had fought and defended their mate. Derek tried not to remember the way Stalker's heart had felt in his palm, his wolf snarling and vengeful for the harm of their mate, and despite his mother's words about predators and prey, Derek couldn't quite conjure up a feeling of regret for what he'd done. With one more look at Stiles, Derek closed his eyes just as fiercely as he'd gripped Stalker's beating heart resting in his palm.

 

...

 

The end.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
